


Dead or Alive

by 00Wandering_Ghost00



Series: Odes of Corrosion [2]
Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Attempt at Humor, Banter, Bikers, Canon-Typical Violence, Frenemies, Fun, Gen, No Smut, WWIII, some action too, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2018-12-30 22:03:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12118143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/00Wandering_Ghost00/pseuds/00Wandering_Ghost00
Summary: WWIII. After a bunch of raiders ambushed the convoy he was about to lead to New York City, Major Hewlett finds himself in a weird situation. The only person coming to his rescue is someone he’d rather see in a straightjacket and/or behind bars. Frenemy banter commences inside dilapidated buildings and generally dystopian urban surrounding. (= TCV ‘verse)





	1. Providence

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dear readers and passersby! This one is a sort of spinoff from my other work, titled "This Corroded Valentine". It is set during World War III, and about a long and unpleasant road-trip of Major Hewlett on Captain Simcoe's steel horse. Though there are no major warnings, I'd like to state that there will be some mild cursing, insulting of someone's mental state, and mildly antagonistic behaviour between the two characters. (To avoid going OOC with them completely. :'D )  
> Have fun!

_May 12 th, 2020_

Major Hewlett was surrounded by a small group of scavengers, that cut him off from the rest of the unit. He had no idea what went wrong, for it supposed to be a simple mission, getting from point A to point B, but the road got blocked and his men were ambushed. He never liked the idea of cruising through the ruined remains of various small towns and cities teeming with raiders, but he got his orders. He led a military convoy from Setauket to Queens, and was supposed to return shortly after the necessary equipment and medical supplies were delivered to the outpost there. These goods were scarce, and the convoy was a juicy target for the raiders and rebels in the area. He should have known. The scavengers outnumbered the soldiers, and scattered them, while stripping everything they could from the vehicles, including electronics. Edmund took cover behind the remains of a wall, and was trying to come up with an escape plan, when he suddenly heard the roaring of an engine closing in. He wasn’t an expert in mechanics, but his best guess was that the sound came from a motorcycle of a faster and sturdy kind… He dared to peek out, ready to get a bullet through his head, but it seemed the raiders were also occupied by the roaring beast coming in their general direction. Hewlett ducked back behind his cover. It was a despatch rider, alone, going in high speed. He saw which road the lone biker comes from. Someone must have sent a message from Setauket. But why? Edmund didn’t have much time to think, for the raiders started to fire at the nightmare that reached them. He heard screams mixing with the sound of the engine and the barking of the machine guns the raiders fired. Hewlett rose to his feet, and sneaked to one of the SUV’s of the unfortunate convoy. He had a better look on the events from there. The biker had an automatic handgun, and he fired some shots until he got close enough to stop the vehicle and change the pistol to a nasty looking serrated bayonet. He wore a safety helmet and goggles, and his face was covered by a scarf, but Hewlett didn’t have to see it to recognize him. The motorized one-man massacre was Captain Simcoe, and the Major was sure that he will be the next after the monster finished with the raiders.

“You can come out now, Major!” Edmund heard Simcoe’s voice after everything went eerily quiet for a moment. He peeked out from his hiding place, and saw the Captain, leaning against his bike, cleaning his bayonet with a rag. The raiders were either far away, or lay dead around the Ranger.

“Captain, may you enlighten me on what the bloody hell are you doing here?” he asked the taller man, while staggering over to him.

“I'm here to save you, of course.” came the answer with the perfect fake-innocent tone Simcoe seemed to be the master of.

“Forgive me, but I have a strong sense of doubt about that.” Edmund stated, ready for shooting the Captain on first wrong move.

“If my intentions weren’t clear, I would have shoot you too, and return to that blasted backwater town with the news of your unfortunate demise.” Simcoe answered indifferently “Poor Mrs. Strong would be gutted, but at least she’ll have me to console her.”

Hewlett was about to say something about authority, then he stopped after he opened his mouth. He instead asked “Wait, what? You mean Mrs. Strong sent you?”

The Captain didn’t answer, he just leaned to his vehicle, and eyed Edmund for a short while before asking

“Have you ever sit on a bike, Major?”

Hewlett shook his head.

“God forbid, no. These things are noisy, rough and crude. Nothing like a horse.”

Simcoe raised his brow, and an utterly evil smile appeared on his face.

“Right. I forgot. Your horse, what was its name?”

Hewlett felt his blood pressure rising, but he forced himself to stay calm. He will not be a fool and play Simcoe’s game.

“We should see if there’s anything left of the supplies I was about to take to New York City.” he stated instead. “I still have my orders.”

Simcoe rolled his eyes.

“And may I ask what do you want to do if you find anything?”

“I see that there’s a carrier-rack on your bike. We will place all we find into a box and fix it there.” Hewlett answered.

“Wait, you plan to go all the way to the Big Apple on my bike?” Simcoe asked in a surprised tone.

 “Of course. That being my only chance to fulfil my orders.” Hewlett answered.

“What makes you think I won’t nick the whole thing and go on my merry way after I got rid of your carcass?”

Hewlett stopped halfway back to the disembowelled SUVs. He turned back to the Captain, who was still looking at him with his cold eyes.

“As much as I hate to admit it, but I got to know you as a man who has some degree of honour." He answered. "It would be below you to steal the supplies. Besides, who would you sell it to?”

Simcoe shook his head in disbelief.

“You have no guarantee that I won’t bayonet you and bury you next to the road, and yet you trust me. I feel flattered, Ed.”

Hewlett shuddered as Simcoe uttered his given name.

“Don’t.” he objected. “It’s not like I trust you, or anything. Now get over here Captain, and help me save what can be saved!”

 They gathered two boxes of supplies that they fixed in bulletproof boxes onto Simcoe’s bike. The Captain sat on the vehicle, and was looking at the Major. Hewlett hesitated.

“What is it? We wasted precious hours already.”

“I just don’t fancy the idea of this mechanical beast.”

“I’m a Ranger, on a steel horse I ride.” Simcoe riposted. “Now get on, or sod off.”

Hewlett awkwardly climbed onto the vehicle, almost falling over to its other side. Simcoe stared expressionlessly into the rear view mirror, though maintaining his usual pokerface was challenging, seeing his superior’s muddle.

“Hang on Major, you will succeed for the third time.” He said mockingly. Hewlett finally sat on the bike, and was looking around.

“Is there anything I can hold on to at all?” He asked shyly.

“Me.” Simcoe answered. “I don’t like the idea either.”

“I’ll never get this whole motorcycling thing.” Hewlett sighed.

“It’s easy. You hold on to my waist – not any lower if you want to live – and bend to the same direction I and the bike bends, if there’s a turn on the road.” Simcoe explained like he was talking to a mentally challenged child. Hewlett looked at him with a sour expression, then he leaned closer, to try and hold on to the other man’s waist.

“Wait!” Simcoe exclaimed. “You’ll need this.”

He undid the straps of his safety helmet, and gave it over to Hewlett, then adjusted his goggles and scarf to protect his face from the wind. Hewlett looked sheepishly at the helmet, then back up to Simcoe’s now free matted auburn mane.

“Shall I put it on for you?” the Captain asked with a nice amount of snark.

Hewlett scoffed and managed to put the helmet on, and awkwardly held on to Simcoe, as he started the engine, and the trembling, grumbling mechanical monster under them began to roar, and tear the mud on the road as it was heading to the convoy’s original destination.

Edmund feared for his life, and at the same time, he started to understand why some people loved the two-wheeled noisy monstrosities he disliked. They avoided the highway, went parallel with it in the forest instead. After a few bumps and jumps, Hewlett also had a suspicion about the cause of Simcoe’s unusually high voice. He wanted to ask the Captain, why they aren’t going on the road, but communication was almost impossible with the loud roaring of the engine. It was already dark when they left the site of the ambush, and the lone, wan light of the bike along with its sound made them just as easy prey as the convoy was. They travelled a long way, and Hewlett was thinking about the absurdity of the situation. Everyone in his unit feared and loathed the Queen’s Rangers, especially their leader. Captain Simcoe had a long list of war crimes against him, from torturing captives to shooting a military property horse, in an assassination attempt on his commanding officer. Since the first day they’ve met, the two of them were antagonistic towards each other. Edmund also tried hard not to think that this man, who tried to kill him more than once is now the person his life is depending on. He was too close, his jacket smelled of gunpowder and rain, and he said that Anna sent him to rescue the survivors of the ambush. Somehow Hewlett had doubts about it. The woman hated Simcoe more than he did. Why would she ask a walking crime against humanity to do something… heroic? Decent? A gunshot disrupted his thoughts, and Simcoe’s cursing, as he made a quick turn and enhanced the speed of the bike. They were running 141.67 miles per hour, reaching top speed, and quickly leaving their assailants, but suddenly they were slowing down. After a turn towards the nearby town of Jericho, the bike stopped.

“What happened?” Hewlett asked, still holding on to Simcoe, who braced the bike with his leg, and was looking at something on the dashboard. “We’re out of fuel. Brilliant!” Hewlett stumbled down from the saddle, and felt a sharp pain in his backside. Bigger than the guy standing in front of him.

“Captain, are you telling me that you forgot to check the fuel meter before venturing out to the woods after a convoy, that was probably ambushed? Your stupidity never ceases to amaze me.”

 Simcoe dismounted his bike, and pushed it forward, ignoring Hewlett’s angered sigh as he followed.

“We better find a place to hide for the rest of the night.” the Captain said indifferently while his eyes scanned the empty street and abandoned buildings. Small towns like this were a perfect hiding place for scavenger groups and rebels. The street lights were off, so they barely saw where they were going.

“Couldn’t we just look for a gas station and move on?” Hewlett asked.

“As a matter of fact, we could.” Simcoe answered. “Problem is, all gas stations in the region are emptied. We’ll be lucky if we can find a spare tank somewhere.”

The Major silently followed the Captain, but was thinking on a solution to their fuel problem. He knew a station somewhere around Old Westbury, on road 495. It opened not long before the war broke out, and Hewlett hoped that it wasn’t emptied by the locals or military.

“Captain…” he said, but Simcoe gestured for him to stay quiet. They heard noise coming from one of the abandoned and ruined houses. Maybe it was only a forest animal scavenging for food, but neither of them wanted to take a risk. They used Simcoe’s bike as cover, and waited. Nothing happened, so the Captain stood up and sneaked around to scout the area. Hewlett wanted to order him to stay, but he had to trust the younger man this time. Minutes passed and the Major started to feel concerned, but then Simcoe returned with a dead rabbit.

“I got dinner.” he said, and threw the carcass onto the bike’s seat. He also started to push the vehicle to the direction of the old house. Hewlett followed. “Would you care to explain?” he asked, but didn’t expect an answer. After they were inside, Simcoe used his bike to block the entrance, and started to gather everything he could to make something resembling to fortification. This Edmund understood without needing a word, so he helped with it. They barricaded the holes which were once windows, and even made a little fireplace to cook the rabbit. Not a word was spoken between them until they finally sat down. Simcoe flayed and gutted the rabbit, threw the remains out from the house, and hoped that Hewlett won’t throw up in the meantime. The Major was occupied with lighting the fire, so he wasn’t paying attention to his partner’s gruesome work. The first thing he uttered was a simple, yet good question. “Wouldn’t someone see the fire from the outside?”

Simcoe took a look around, and came back. “No.” he said confidently. “The fire is small enough, and the barricades cover it.”

Edmund nodded. He was trying to put the rabbit-pieces into the fire, but he wasn’t the cook of the year. He looked up at Simcoe, asking for help. “Do you know how to…?”

The Captain rolled his eyes and took over the cooking. “It’s relatively easy, you know.” he said. “You place the meat in the fire and wait until it’s fried.”

After they had to go with the half-raw, half carbonated stuff that was left of the rabbit, both men reconsidered how “easy” it was to cook meat.

“That was the worst I ever had.” Hewlett told Simcoe after he got rid of the trash and extinguished the fire. “Thank you, Major."

 “It wasn’t a compliment.” Edmund added, missing the sarcasm in Simcoe’s voice.

“Oh, sorry. Was I supposed to be offended?”

The only thing Hewlett wanted the least next to an unexpected ambush, was an offended and unpredictable Simcoe, so he shook his head. “We should rest, and leave at dawn.” he said. “There is a gas station nearby, and I think we should try our luck with it.”

“Nearby?” Simcoe asked. “On feet or on bike?”

“It’s next to Old Westbury, on route 495.”

“So it’s quite far away on foot.” the Captain stated, and grimaced. “Have a kip, I’ll be on watch ‘til midnight.”

Hewlett wanted to object, and ask his unlikely companion about a lot of things, but he nodded. Though sleep escaped his troubled and confused mind. After all, how could any sane person sleep while Captain Simcoe was nearby? The Major leaned to the wall, turning away from the other man, though he still felt the icy gaze on his back for a while. He felt unsafe, worried and cold. He sometimes heard Simcoe shift from one leg to another, but otherwise, the younger man made absolutely no sound. It wasn’t the first time Hewlett found himself musing about if Simcoe is cybernetically enhanced. The man was near-indestructible, fast, and maybe his mental symptoms could be linked back to a common psychosis among cyber-soldiers. He didn’t remember the Captain’s medical record, and frankly he didn’t really care, but sometimes he just wondered. Simcoe was more like a cyborg than a human to him, with his always expressionless face, always polite, gentle tone, and even his sarcastic remarks felt programmed to Hewlett. He seriously started to believe that if he cut Simcoe, the liquid streaming from the wound would rather resemble oil than blood. It would make sense.

 Midnight came very fast, and the Major felt like he was left in a fridge for hours. He sometimes glanced over to Simcoe, who seemed to be asleep. Or on stand-by mode, as Edmund kept playing with the cyborg analogy in his head. Not long before dawn the Captain woke up and made the only utterly human thing Hewlett saw him do in the whole one and a half days they’ve spent together: Yawned. Then he stood up, stretched – like a reminder for Edmund how freakin’ tall he is – and went over to his bike, and rummaged through its saddlebag. The Major didn’t utter a word, just waited until Simcoe took a map of the area and went back to him.

“So… Yesterday you were talking about a gas station near Old Westbury. Could you mark me where it is?”

Hewlett pointed at the map. His finger left a red dot on it.

“Didn’t know the Rangers have those new digital maps.” he said unwittingly. Simcoe smiled and said “Well, there must be some perks, you know…” but then, as he just realised who is he talking to, took on his usual expressionless face. “Thank you, Major. It would be best if you stay here, while I go and scout the area, and see if we can get some fuel or not.”

“I can walk too, you know. And I also know where the station is.” Hewlett stated.

“You would only slow me down.” Simcoe answered. “Besides, you’re no frontiersman. The first group of scavengers would catch you.”

Hewlett wanted to object once again, but he held back what he was about to say. He instead asked

“And what if those scavengers catch _you_?” Simcoe shrugged and levelled his gun. “Then they will die.” he said indifferently. “I have made a promise to someone who is important for me, and it was that I take you back to Setauket. I am willing to keep my word, even though every cell in my body tells me to cut your throat and dump your carcass into a ditch somewhere.” Seeing the Major’s resentful face he added “What? I’m just being honest.”

“That I can’t deny.” Hewlett said dryly. “But I can’t let you go alone, Captain. We’re in the same team.”

Simcoe looked frustrated.

“It would be too slow. I would have to look after you, and move the bike to the gas station, if – and it’s a bloody big if – it is even operating. Not a good idea, dear Major.”

Edmund gave up. In fact, there was a grain of truth in what the Captain kept saying.

“All right. I’ll stay and keep watch until you return.”

“Good.” Simcoe stood up, and tucked the map in his pocket “And if you happen to die while I’m away, please try not to soil her.” he glanced over to his bike. Edmund’s blood pressure was reaching new levels. “I would slap you Captain, but that would qualify as animal abuse.” Simcoe stopped and turned back at the Major, then suddenly he laughed out loud. “Oh, I bet you were up all night trying to come up with that one.” And with that, he left. Hewlett felt relief, and searched for a perfect hiding place in the abandoned house they now occupied. The neighbourhood was eerily quiet, and from the attic’s remains, where he perched, Edmund could see Simcoe’s running figure on the road. He kept a steady pace and disappeared among the trees. It will take long hours until he’s back again to torment him, Edmund thought. He looked up at the blue sky and the gathering clouds.


	2. Circumstance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Simcoe's adventure trip to the gas station, where we also get a glimpse on his inspiration to become a biker-gang leader after the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Well, this chapter isn't so funny as it is action-packed, but there will be some snark here or there, I promise. ;)

John stopped and glanced at the map to see if he’s in the right direction. The gas station was still long miles ahead, so he had time to think. Or to scold himself, more like. Was it not for his overwhelming desire to prove Anna wrong about him, he wouldn’t move a finger to save Hewlett or any of his men. They could rot wherever they were. But once for a hell of a long time, he cared about what someone thought of him, and that someone just had to be the woman in love with his fumbling superior. And the one who stole his heart too. Simcoe shook the creeping memory of her off, and focused on the road again. He was near a baseball field and the ruins of an elementary school, according to his map. The field was torn, just like the building, and some birds flew over it, but otherwise all seemed to be quiet. However, Simcoe didn’t trust the whole scene. He treaded carefully through the baseball field onto the paved road, and immediately searched for cover. No one spotted him so far, and he hoped that it will stay that way. Despite his oh-so-confident and cocky act before, he knew that taking the road alone is dangerous, and that locals-turned-raiders are everywhere. He knew he could take a lot with him to hell before they could end him, but John didn’t want to die. Not now. He would gladly toss Hewlett under the bus if it would save him, though. He looked at his digital map again, to plan the route. The forest was nearly eradicated and buildings and a giant parking lot occupied the area. Simcoe cursed under his nose. He must take the road, and risk to be seen by sentries. The region was urbanized, with very few trees or other landscape objects to use as cover, so John prepared himself for a long road filled with traps. He found it fascinating, and felt the blood run in his veins a bit faster. After all, he had a loaded gun, and his loyal bayonet combined with his resolve and field experience. What else did he need to survive?

 

After a few turns and traps, he reconsidered his over-confident statement before. He only reached Jericho Turnpike, where he could go up to the overpass, that was on road 495 on the map, when he heard noises of engines warming up. Someone must have seen him, and now a group of motorized scavengers came to investigate. There was no place to hide, and Simcoe didn’t even want to. He had a better plan. He stood in the middle of the road, and waited.

Three bikers appeared coming from the massive parking lot turned fort in his direction. John levelled his gun, and took aim on the leader’s head. He was waiting until they reached a bit closer, then he pulled the trigger. The biker fell off with a hole in his head. His partners came faster, one of them wielding a chain, probably to tie him after the bike. He was the next target. Simcoe fired another bullet and hit, but the bullet ricocheted from the biker’s helmet. John cursed and jumped out of the way, before the biker could lash him with the chain. As they passed him by, he could read the text on their back: “Pirates, Oyster Bay, Est. 1776”.  In other circumstances, Simcoe would laugh his ass off because of the bold statement of the biker gang, but now he was more focused on killing the two remaining Pirates than to mock them for their obnoxious title. He went back to the road, and shot at them as they turned around to come back. He hit the one with the chain, and the last Pirate was smart enough to pass him by and leave him alone. Simcoe fired a bullet after the retreating biker, but it was more for the shock value than to actually hit and kill. He casually trotted over to the Pirate on the ground, and took off the man’s helmet to be able to speak with him.

“That was a bad idea.” Simcoe told the biker, who was struggling with his last breath. He watched as the light faded in the unfortunate Pirate’s eyes, then went over to his bike and examined it. It was an older model, lighter and less sturdy than Simcoe’s Triumph Tiger, but it would do just fine. And the tank was almost full, which was also a bonus. John stood up, turned the vehicle up, and got on its saddle. The engine purred like a cat as he started it, pulling his goggles to his eyes and his scarf to protect his face, and he darted off to the road. He almost felt disappointed. It was too easy. He took the turn to the overpass, and headed towards Old Westbury.

 

The gas station turned out to be a bit more far away though. Simcoe was worried that he overlooked something, because when he reached the town indicated on the map, he found neither a gas station, nor a way to get down from the overpass. He had to drive forward, until he could take a turn and leave road 495, to take Old Westbury road. Again, he had time to think. And again, he was thinking about how could he be such a fool for jumping at Anna’s request. He could hit two birds with one stone, leaving Hewlett in hot water, and possibly losing a rival, and in the meantime, he could be there for Anna, possibly gaining her much wanted attention.

But why did he want her attention so badly? Was it really love he felt? Or just obsession, as she once told him. Obsession because she reminded him of someone. He saw lights in the distance so he slowed down. The hastily thrown fortification around a building that once was a mall indicated that he’s close to his destination. He could see the gas station, and the remains of the other one nearby. The one he was heading to seemed to be operating, just like Hewlett told him. The locals did not welcome strangers however.

“I’m not looking for trouble.” Simcoe heard himself say, and immediately questioned his statement. When was the last time he didn’t want to stir up things a little bit? Probably in some previous life. The dirty, worn-out people surrounding him slowed down. They were more cautious than the biker gang members. After all, Simcoe was a soldier, even if a lone one. “I heard that this gas station is still working.” he continued “I need fuel.”

The scavengers now completely circled him, but didn’t move. One of them, a charismatic looking man with a missing arm stepped forward. “You might get it if you have something in return.”

Simcoe stared at him with his usual expressionless face, but then he nodded. “Very well. It has to be a trade then.” He dismounted his stolen bike, and gestured towards it. The one-armed guy made a curious expression. “You need fuel, but not your vehicle? That’s funny.” “It’s not mine” Simcoe answered indifferently. “I stole it from a gang member after I shot him. You happen to know about those so-called Pirates, no?”

The scavengers looked at their leader, who nodded.

“You say you killed a Pirate and stole his bike, and live to tell the story? That’s something.”

The mood changed very fast from there. Simcoe was surprised. These people treated him like some kind of a hero. He could get used to it, he admitted to himself. After he got the necessary amount of fuel, and some goodbye hugs from a pair of ladies, he left the fortified gas station and the curious people guarding it.

 He knew that the road back to their hideout will be longer, and also expected some trouble. While he treaded the cracked pavement and torn fields, he was thinking on the reaction of the locals, when he told them about the Pirates. He always wanted people to recognize him and what he does. He didn’t necessarily want adoration, or admiration, but at least acknowledgment. He also felt a strange kinship with the half-armed leader of the sentries at the gas station. The man was once a soldier, like himself, until a grenade tore his arm off. Yet he still went out and fought for what he believed, and it was something Simcoe could identify with. They were both hounds. Fighting was their only purpose in life.

It was way past noon when he arrived back at their mutual hideout, and Hewlett was nowhere to be found. Simcoe started to think he wandered off somewhere, and –if there’s a god above – got himself killed, but he had to be disappointed, for the Major was merely in the attic, sleeping soundly.

“Good afternoon, Major!” he greeted Hewlett, who woke up and almost fell over. Simcoe could barely bite back his chuckle. “Did you have any luck?” Edmund asked to detour the Captain’s ever observing electric blue gaze from himself. “Luck?” Simcoe repeated “Well, dear Eddie, luck has nothing to do with it. I had a little negotiation with the locals, and they gladly provided what I need.”

Hewlett once again wanted to scold the Captain for using his first name – and in a mocking way too – but something else in Simcoe’s speech caught his attention.

“Who did you have to kill to get a canful of petrol?” he asked aridly, suspecting the worst, knowing Simcoe’s reputation. The taller man seemed to be offended by the question.

“I obtained it as part of a trade.” Simcoe answered on a lower tone than he usually spoke in. “I don’t know what kind of a monster you take me for, Major. I helped out some local folks, and in return, they gave me the can. That is all.”

Hewlett doubted it, but he let it go.

“So, that means we can leave now?” he asked. the Captain nodded, as he went back downstairs, to refill the tank of his bike.

“We’ll be in New York City by the evening, if we can stay on road 495. Maybe sooner.”

Hewlett sighed in relief. The quicker their trip will be, the better. He didn’t want to spend more time on Simcoe’s motorcycle, and in his company than necessary. The Captain just finished with filling the bike’s tank, and sat on its saddle, when they heard several other engines growling.

“Friends of yours?” Hewlett asked. Simcoe turned around, and tossed his safety helmet at the Major.

“Take it on, and get behind me! Quick!”

The Pirates arrived just a few seconds after they left the building. Hewlett turned back to count them, but he lost after twelve. They were greatly outnumbered, and the gang members also carried weapons, while they only had Simcoe’s half-empty automatic handgun and his bayonet, along with Hewlett’s gun and the short supply on ammunition. Their only chance was to get rid of the Pirates, but that proved to be almost impossible. 

Edmund turned back and grabbed his gun, to shoot some rounds at their pursuers. The movement and speed of their vehicle hardened the already tricky work of aiming for him, and he also had to hold on to Simcoe a bit tighter if he wouldn’t want to fall off. He shot and missed. The Pirates shot back at them, and the Major heard a loud clanking noise as bullets ricocheted from the bike’s chassis, followed by some sparks. They drove up to the overpass, and Simcoe increased speed. He was trying to lose the gang by outrunning them, but that plan doesn’t seem to work, for the Pirates had vehicles of the same model as the two soldiers. They ran on a linear course, with Hewlett sometimes firing at the Pirates and missing. He lowered his empty gun, and turned back. That was when he noticed the bleeding wound on the Captain’s left thigh and another one on his waist, just a bit above Edmund’s arm. The ricocheted bullets must have hit him, but he either didn’t notice because of the adrenaline rush, or just forced himself to ignore the pain of it. “Captain, you’re bleeding!” he yelled, trying to outshout the engine. Simcoe just yelled back, not moving his gaze from the road “Take them down for fuck’s sake, before they kill us both!”

The Major shook his head, but the other man didn’t see it. “I’m out of ammo!” he shouted. Simcoe made an irritated sound, loud enough to be heard despite the roar of the bike. “Take my gun and use that then!” Hewlett reached towards the other man’s sidearm, and hopelessly tried to take good aim this time. He managed to shoot two of the Pirates, but the remaining ten still followed them. They were still speeding up, and Edmund found himself more than once holding on to Simcoe instead of turning back at their assailants. They left Old Westbury and the gas station long ago, when the Major spotted something ahead. The overpass was collapsed, leaving a huge gap between the two parts. And they were closing to it. “John! There’s a hole in the road!” he yelled again. Simcoe turned back towards him this time, with a crazy gleam in his eyes. “Hang on, Major! It’s gonna be a rough ride!”

Hewlett obeyed, but couldn’t help but try to talk some sense into the Captain.

“John, it’s crazy, you can’t possibly…” the gap was closer, too close to Edmund’s liking. “John, stop! We’re going to fall! John! JOHN!”

The bike left the ground, floating in the air for a moment. The world seemed to slow down, and freeze in time, then Hewlett felt the gravity and they dropped on the pavement, igniting sparks upon impact, running as fast as they could on the other side. He turned back, and saw two of the Pirates daring to mimic Simcoe’s stunt, but they fell off or crashed into the edge of the broken asphalt wall and disappeared. Edmund felt the blood running in his veins again, and the world seemed to be back in its normal speed. He couldn’t believe that they’ve made it. The Pirates fired some shots after them, but gave up the hunt.

“We… We did it!” Hewlett laughed, and by some unexplainable urge, hugged the Captain. Simcoe cried out, so the Major loosened his grip. As he glanced at his injuries, John seemed to have lost a lot of blood, and was struggling to keep focus. The bullet must hit some internal organ, and the bleeding didn’t seem to stop. “We have to give you first aid!” Hewlett shouted. “There must be a turn somewhere we can get off from this bloody overpass and stop for a while.” Simcoe shook his head. Edmund barely heard his voice as he shouted back “No, I’ll not stop until we reached the outpost in Queens. We can make it in less than half an hour at this speed.”

“Or we crash into the barrier and die, because you faint from blood loss!”

Edmund couldn’t see Simcoe’s face but his determination bordering on madness was clear as he repeated “I will not stop. I will not fail.” He kept saying this, like a mantra.

 

The lone despatch rider with the two boxes of supplies arrived at the outpost at dusk. The sturdy motorcycle carried two men, one of them injured. The soldiers ran over to them to help, after Major Hewlett yelled at them to do something. Captain Simcoe was barely conscious, his blood painted his khaki regimentals crimson. His usually pale face was faded like a ghost’s. No one thought he would make it to the other day.

But, as Major Hewlett mused sitting beside his dearest enemy’s sickbed, it was Captain Simcoe. He probably couldn’t be killed with anything but a silver bullet forged by a virgin under the full moon’s light at midsummer. The medic fought hard for the Captain’s life, and won. Maybe if he knew the young man dying on his table, he wouldn’t be so eager to save him. The drugs’ effect faded slowly, and just an hour before dawn, John opened his eyes, and tried to sit up.

“Welcome back among the living, Captain.” Hewlett greeted him with a hint of sarcasm. “I have to admit that I was really disappointed when I didn’t see screws and wires inside you, with a leaking oil tank.”

Simcoe had to compress the Major’s attempt at mocking him, then he slowly shook his head and fell back to his pillow.

“Not one of my facial muscles appreciate your humour, Ed.”

“I thought I just ask if you were born on the highway.”

John glanced at Edmund suspiciously.

“No.” he answered tiredly. “Why do you ask?”

He was waiting for something typical of the Major. Something condescending, patronizing or just scientific babble, but Hewlett just shrugged and added

“Because that’s where most accidents happen.”

Simcoe sprung up, and immediately cried out in pain, and doubled over.

“There, there Captain. Stay in bed, you’re injured.”

The mocking tone of the Major’s voice was enough for Simcoe to want to jump at him and tear his throat out. “You little…” He couldn’t continue.

“I’m serious, John. Don’t try to get up!”

“I _will_ get up, get you, and I will end you.”

Hewlett thought that John is really scary when he’s angry, even if he’s half dead and wearing only a hospital gown. A wild animal.

“You know…” Simcoe said after a few moments “I’ve always thought you are the reason god created the middle finger.” and with that he lay back and turned away from the Major. His wounds were painful, but he didn’t mind it. He just focused on it, and thought “You’re alive. As long as something hurts, you’re alive.”

Hewlett left him alone – Simcoe almost thought he will sing a hymn – and finally he could get some rest. He wanted to go back to Setauket as soon as possible.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for now. All that is left of this story is the way home, and the aftermath, so there might be one more chapter added. Depends on how long I can make the next one. :)  
> As always, thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated, but not mandatory. <3


	3. Innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road back to Setauket, and the reunion between Anna and the Major.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! The last chapter will be a bit more lighthearted than the previous was. :)  
> Thank you for reading, you're the reason I keep writing about these guys.

The Major tried to request passage with another convoy, claiming that Captain Simcoe shouldn’t ride a motorcycle after his serious injury, but was declined. He had to accept that his only traveling means back will be on the same noisy, uncomfortable metal beast he had to endure riding here, along with its likely mechanical master. Edmund was utterly devastated. Even more when he spotted Simcoe’s tall frame among the soldiers going about their daily business. John was still limping, but otherwise seemed like nothing happened to him. Hewlett had to scoop up his jaw from the floor. That man must really be a machine. “I don’t know how you do it.” he confessed while watching the Captain tending his mount made of steel. “I use a lot of oil and a rag…” John started to explain tiredly, but the Major intervened. “No, I mean… Other people would lay in bed for weeks after what you’ve been through, yet you are here. Half a day later.” Simcoe looked up, and blinked. “I don’t see your point, Major.” Edmund stepped toward the bike and the younger man. “What are you, some kind of a cyborg? You should take time to heal.” John didn’t even look at him, he was busy tightening screws and oiling parts. It wasn’t the first time someone compared him to a machine, and he suspected that it won’t be the last either. “I’ll be fine.” he told the Major on a mechanical tone, and went back to work on his bike. Hewlett nodded. “Just beep if you’re ready to go.” he added and left. A spanner flew and hit the wall just inches away from his head. He turned around, but Simcoe was not even looking at him. “Your aim is still wonky, John.” Edmund stated. The Captain lifted his head and with the same expressionless face, he added “Yea, I know. I keep missing you.”

Edmund tried to send a message back to Setauket, or at least contact the garrison and Captain Wakefield. He failed, and after the hundredth time, he gave up. He let his thoughts wander around and settle with his personal demon instead. Simcoe’s determination was admirable, even if it was reckless considering their situation. Just as he was contemplating the mystical force behind the Captain’s recovery, he popped up behind Hewlett, and cleared his throat. Edmund almost jumped out of his boots, but quickly regained composure. “Are we ready to leave?” he asked. Simcoe nodded. “I also took care of refilling the tank this time.” he added. The Major followed the younger man back to the repair bay, and found that without the two crates, the bike was a bit more comfortable. He still hated it though. They drove back on the same road they came. Hewlett was thinking of the stunt performance Captain Simcoe made on their way to the outpost, jumping through the collapsed overpass. He sincerely hoped he won’t repeat it. Or that the Pirates won’t be around, hunting for them. Evening caught them on the road, and Edmund found himself leaning to John’s back, and nearly falling asleep. He was warmer than the Major remembered. Before he could ask what’s wrong, the bike changed course to and fro, and slowed down. “Out of petrol again?” Hewlett asked, but after they stopped, Simcoe shook his head. He looked sick, and Hewlett caught himself still holding on to the other man’s waist. He dismounted the bike, and searched for a water bottle in the saddle bag. “If you think it’s the right time to make a run for it, I don’t recommend you to try.” he told the Captain, who didn’t answer. The Major found a bottle of water, and gave it to Simcoe, who drank almost all of it in a single draught. “Are you all right Captain?” John looked at him and slowly nodded. “Of course.” he drawled. “I just needed a little pause, because my wound pains me a bit.” Hewlett looked at him with suspicion, but then his face lightened up. “Can you drive us to that grove over there, behind those houses?” he pointed at the grove’s direction. John nodded. “I suppose I can.” Hewlett got back behind him, and wrapped his arms around the taller man’s waist. He could feel Simcoe wincing, and heard him inhaling sharply as he probably touched his wound accidentally. They took the turn down from route 495, and went into the trees, stopping in the grove, the Major wanted to go to. Edmund dismounted the bike immediately as John braced it with his leg, and rummaged through the saddle bag again for the first-aid kit. The Captain also staggered over to a tree, and sat under it. His hair was stuck to his face and head by sweat, and he probably had a fever.

“I can’t believe it.” Hewlett grumbled. “It’s the 21st century, and you manage to get your wound infected.” He stepped over to the Captain, and sat beside him. “Take off your shirt, John!” he said in a commanding tone. Simcoe smirked. “You’re a naughty one, Ed. Took me to the woods, now asking me to take my clothes off…” “Captain, you probably have an infection, and your stitches are very likely to have been opened. So I’m really not in the mood for your rubbish.” Hewlett answered. “If we’re about to get back to Setauket, I have to stitch you together and disinfect the wound.” Simcoe looked Hewlett in the eye, then he obeyed. His bandages already soaked through with blood, he glanced at them and grimaced. Hewlett also made an irritated sound. “Why are you so reckless?” he asked a rhetorical question, peeling off the bloody bandages from Simcoe’s torso. “What you call reckless, I call persistent.” he pressed through his gritted teeth. As Edmund suspected, John’s wounds opened, and inflamed. He poured a small amount of antiseptic into a piece of bandage, and started to clean the Captain’s wound. Simcoe cursed and groaned and grit his teeth. “Stay still!” Hewlett ordered, and continued to apply the alcohol based solution to the Captain, who started to feel like the Major deliberately tortures him. “Oh Eddie, you’re good with this. Don’t stop!” he groaned. Hewlett looked at him with a flat face. “I feel like I’m too old for this.” he sighed, and took another piece of cotton and poured the antiseptic on it, to continue to clean the dirt and blood off of John’s wounds. It took him a long time, because of Simcoe was acting like a child, trying to get away from the unpleasant procedure. “John, would you just sit still? The more you wriggle, the longer it takes to finish with this…” Edmund told his subordinate. “I see you got the point.” Simcoe breathed, turning his face to the Major. “You want this to go on longer than necessary?” Hewlett shook his head in astonishment. “You’re either masochistic, or have an agenda.” Simcoe chuckled. “What if I say both?” The Major frowned. “You know” the Captain started “Mrs. Strong was really worried about you.” Edmund’s face lightened up, but he still didn’t believe that Anna sent the Captain after the ill-fated convoy. Alone above all. “Oh, was she?” he asked. Simcoe nodded. “You should be there, and hear that plea.” he smirked. He mimicked Anna’s speech and accent as he recited her words “I would consider it a personal favour of the highest order. If you were able to rescue the Major, I would be deeply in your debt. Straight out from some 19th century romance novel.” Hewlett felt his blood pressure rising. He wanted to pour some more antiseptic into the Captain’s wound, but he only asked instead “So, you read 19th century romance novels?” Simcoe shrugged. “Ladies seem to like the fact that I do.” “Really?” Hewlett asked, stopping with the preparation to sew the younger man’s wound. “Well, some of them.” Simcoe added and turned his head towards the road and his bike. They were fairly hidden from view, but if any of them made a loud noise, someone might hear it. Unless if the whole district is empty, of course. John was thinking about what the neighbourhood was like before the war. A sharp, painful sting dragged him out of his musings. He hissed and shut his eyes. Hewlett looked up for a moment, and thought this time he will start a conversation. “So, you say Miss Anna was practically begging you to be my knight in shiny armour and save me from God knows what fate?” Simcoe looked at him, and nodded. “Yes. But don’t get your knickers in a twist, I declined her.” “Yet you’re here.” Hewlett added aridly. “Of course. After contemplating on her plea, I came to the conclusion that the only way for me to prove her that she was wrong about me, is that if I escort you safely back to her.” The Captain explained. “And take nothing in return.” Hewlett did another stitch. “How chivalrous of you.” he said, pricking the reddened skin around Simcoe’s wound with the needle. “Oh, Eddie…” Simcoe groaned “…What a pity. You don’t understand, you take her by the heart, when you take her by the hand…” The Major chuckled. “Did you get this from one of your novels by Miss Austen?” “No, it was from a song if I’m correct.” the Captain answered. He sometimes flinched but otherwise stayed silent until Hewlett finished sewing and bandaging him. “We’re done.” he said, but Simcoe didn’t seem to notice. The Major put his hand on the younger man’s forehead, and found it to be hotter than it was. His fever got worse. “I go and see if there’s any antibiotics left in the med kit.” he told the Captain, then turned towards the bike’s saddle bag again. “Why are you doing this?” he heard Simcoe’s falsetto, just when he thought the other man will finally stay silent for a long while. “What?” Hewlett asked back. He saw Simcoe’s hand and arm, as he braced himself on the bike’s saddle. He towered over the Major, and was an intimidating sight even in a weakened state. “Why are you staying here with me, tending my wounds, when you could easily leave me behind.” “I’m not that kind of man.” Edmund answered. Simcoe let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Or you are just afraid if other people see your real face.” “What do you mean?” Hewlett’s voice became considerably colder. Simcoe’s trademark half smile occupied his face. “Everyone wears a mask, Major. And I know what lies behind yours.” Hewlett looked him in the eye. “Really now? Captain, you better sit back down under that tree, and take your shirt on, because you have a fever and talk nonsense.” with that, he walked over to the tree, and waited until Simcoe staggered back to him. He slowly sank down between the roots, and covered himself with his jacket. He reminded Hewlett of a sick child. “I’m here, because of some unfathomable reason, I care about you, Captain.” he said, almost like if he was scolding the younger man. “No, you don’t.” Simcoe responded immediately. “You care about what would people say if they find out you left me here, out in the woods, wounded and alone.” Hewlett threw his arm up in defeat. “Think what you want, John. I’m done with you for today.”

There was a long time of silence between them, Hewlett watching the road, and the trees around them, Simcoe just staring at the ground, thinking whatever dark thoughts crossed his always gloomy mind. The Major knew about his mental illness, but so far, he thought he’d be able to control the Captain’s actions. He could be very collected if he wanted to, almost to a point where he convinced everyone that he was healthy. But Hewlett saw the signs. The projection of shortcomings to others or always suspecting something sinister about everyone. Keeping no company save for his books and Journal. Being irritable to a point of blowing up to the slightest insult and then switching to perfect apathy. At times, he saw the dark circles around Simcoe’s eyes, the fatigue and sadness as they sometimes managed to emerge to the surface despite the Captain’s best effort to hide it all behind his usual expressionless faux-cyborg attitude. Hewlett really felt sorry for him. He had no idea what the other man had to go through to develop such a serious case of mental breakdown, but he tried to do the best he could in this situation, to help both of them. But again, he couldn’t really blame Simcoe for not believing him. “You know why any and all kinds of alliances between us tend not to last long?” He asked after a while. The Captain turned towards him. “Because you fail to see things from different perspective than your own.” Hewlett continued. Simcoe tilted his head, and said absently “I would like to see things from your point of view, but I can’t seem to get my head that far up my arse.” Hewlett let the insult fly past him. “You just don’t accept that people want to help you, John.” he said aridly. “You always want to see everyone’s worst, even when they are trying to be there for you.” Simcoe stared at him with cold eyes, and when he spoke, his voice was lower than usual. “I accept if people want to help me. I appreciate if someone tries to be my friend. The problem with friends is, that they leave eventually. And not because they want to leave. My world is just too unstable. After a while, everything and everyone ends up being my enemy, even those who care about me.” The Major was genuinely surprised at seeing the Captain without his mask. “So that is why you tried to kill me?” he asked. “I’m sorry about your horse.” Simcoe answered. “Such a shame that an animal got in the crossfire.”Dawn got them on the road. They were silent after the long talk in the grove, and neither of them felt the need for further conversation. Edmund was careful this time, not to touch John’s wounded side, or hold on to him too tightly. He was thinking. The small glimpse of the Captain’s true colours kept the gears in his brain turning.

Back in Setauket, the whole garrison was disturbed like a hive of ants, when they saw the lone despatch rider with his passenger. Hewlett had a lot of talking to do, and ordered strictly that Captain Simcoe would be left alone for the remainder of the day.

The aforementioned Ranger just thought to pay someone a visit that evening. He wanted to tell Anna the news himself, so he gathered all his strength and went over to the pub she owned. “Sorry, we’re closed!” he heard her voice. “I’ve just returned from a long journey.” he answered. “I’m in need of a drink.” Anna ran to him from the storage. “Where’s the Major?” she asked. “He didn’t return?” Simcoe looked at her and blinked. “I arrived too late. The convoy was already under attack…” he started and the same time tears started to ran down Anna’s cheeks. She leaned her forehead against his chest, and silently sobbed. John was lost at what should he do, so he even stopped talking. He was completely confused. He held her in his arms, and tried to calm her down by saying “It’s all right. I’m here if you need me…” but then the door flung open, and a familiar voice greeted her. “Good evening, Mrs. Strong!” Anna looked up and literally pushed Simcoe aside to run to the Major’s arms. They looked so happy it made John want to throw up. As Hewlett glanced at him, he just shrugged and said “Oh, don’t mind me…” and left. Nobody went near him ever since he returned. He sat down next to his bike out in the garrison’s garage, leaned to the old vehicle, and pretended that the world doesn’t exist. He heard footsteps, and another familiar voice asking “Are you all right, Captain?” He looked up to the dark figure of Akinbode, who looked at him with concern. “Folks at the garrison say you got wounded.” Simcoe’s face was the expressionless mask he usually worn in front of his subordinates. “I am fine.” he said mechanically. “No, you’re not.” Akinbode permitted himself to say. “You’re not the only one, who can spot a lie, Captain.” John started to feel very uncomfortable and vulnerable, so he cast the best of his icy glares at his fellow Ranger, and dismissed him. “I would like to remain alone.” he added. Akinbode left, and with him left the small glimpse of hope John felt regarding his connections with the people around him. He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, and took the small, leather bound Journal he kept with him all the time, and searched for an empty page among the poems and notes. He felt like his blood was flowing through his pen as he scribbled a quote.

_“…You know how hard it can be_

_To keep believing in me_

_When everything and everyone becomes my enemy_

_And when there’s nothing more you can do_

_I’m gonna blame it on you_

_It’s not the way I want to be_

_I only hope that in the end you will see…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad ending is sad. Again, thank you for reading! <3
> 
> Some notes:  
> \- The song the Captain quotes while in a fever goes "Hey Mickey", but he twisted the lyrics a bit. :) Also, his Journal entry is a quote from Emilie Autumn's Opheliac. (I find that song oddly fitting to him, if you change the "she"s in the lyrics to "he"s.)

**Author's Note:**

> -The original song with the steel horse went "I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride...", (but our dear Captain is a Ranger. )  
> Also, if you're interested, 141.67 miles per hour are 228 kilometers per hour. Your welcome.  
> Thank you all for reading, and I hope it made you smile at least once. :) Comments and Kudos aren't necessary, but appreciated.


End file.
